I Shot the DP
- Kevin Huffman
- 4 days ago
- 6 min read
It takes a particular kind of person to be a documentary director of photography.
Cinematographers need artistic instinct and technical fluency—but also the stamina to shoot, light, strike, pack, drive, freeze, stay in terrible hotels, argue about lunch, and deal with pain in the you-know- what directors and producers like me.
Let’s start with a clip. I think it’s funny—mostly because of how serious everyone is.
Then again, we were filming inside a prison.
I’ve spent years working with documentary DPs. I have a lot of photos of them working (they rarely take photos of me), and a lot of thoughts about what makes those relationships work—and fail.
Top Row (l-r). Wolfgang Held, Jim Bowen and Tony Hardmon
Middle Row (l-r) Charlotte Kaufman, Thorsten Theilow and Nancy Schreiber.
Bottom Row (l-r) Jayme Roy, Michael Neumann and Axel Baumann
This is not a love letter. It’s a fieldguide
The goal is simple: how to communicate with a DP before, during, and after a shoot so you actually come back with what you need.
I’m mostly a producer. A lot of the time, I’m in the field without a director—so I become the director.
I’m not an auteur. I’m a story person.
I’m focused on what we’re getting and how it fits into the narrative—not on lenses, frame rates, or building the most beautiful shot. I’m hopeless with gear. But I’ve been on hundreds of shoots, and I always come back with the vegetables—usable material.
So, as a service to the docstory911 crowd, here’s how I think about working with DPs.
Cinematographus Veritatis. (Cinematographer of Truth)
Documentary DPs are, first and foremost, visual artists. They see things the rest of us don’t.
I take a picture of a bird—it looks like a bird.
A DP takes a picture of a bird—it tells a story.
TheIR ORIGINS ARE hard to pin down
Most don’t love talking about themselves, and on a shoot there’s no time for reflection anyway. But over the years, I’ve collected fragments:
“I studied art… then drifted into cameras.”
“I started in stills, moved to 16mm—and yeah, I’d still rather be shooting film.”
“Film school was too controlled. Documentary felt alive.”
“I dropped out of film school. The work was better than the classes.”
“I worked in news for a week. Never again.”
“I covered a war. You wouldn’t last a day.”
“I prefer being my own boss.”
“Stop asking me stupid questions.”
Top Row (l-r). Bob Richman, Luke McCoubrey and Greg Purpura
Bottom Row (l-r) Mike Martin, Blake Horn and Brad Serreno.
Not to be cruel, but documentary DPs have quirks.
I stand by these FIELD NOTES
They don’t read. I send treatments, shot lists, background. Some skim. Most don’t. Their philosophy is: I’ll know it when I see it.
They’re picky about food. Especially if they’re from Brooklyn. Feeding them becomes part of your job. Ignore this at your peril.
They don't want you in the van. That’s their space—to decompress, complain about you, look for their next job, or sleep.
They’re not always great with subjects. Some are. Some absolutely are not. The wrong offhand comment can undo hours of careful trust-building.
They will push back on bad ideas. This is a good thing. They’ve developed an allergy to wasting time. It can feel like stubbornness. Sometimes it is. Sometimes they’re saving you.
They fixate on shots. A shot gets in their head and they will chase it all day—even if the story has moved on. Pick your battles.
A couple of things I’ve always wanted but never gOT
I wish DPs would sit in the edit and hear what editors actually say about their footage.
And I would love to switch jobs for one day—just one. Let them handle the subject, the schedule, the location, the crew, the boss calling mid-shoot, the notes, the logistics. I’ll take the camera. I’ll worry about lunch.
Top Row (l-r). Rachael Morrison, Luke Geissbühler and Matt Porwoll
Bottom Row (l-r) Trish Govoni , Sam Painter and Ben Bloodwell.
All of this said—this is a partnership.
Over 25+ years, I’ve worked with some of the best documentary DPs out there (and a few who tested my patience). When it works, it’s one of the best collaborations you can have in filmmaking.
So here’s what I’ve learned.
DO
Triple-check your call sheeT
Everything takes longer than you think. Especially leaving.
There’s no “Irish goodbye” in documentary. It’s a Midwestern goodbye—long, emotional, and impossible to rush. Add in gear breakdown, and suddenly you’re an hour behind. Miss one piece of gear, and you’ve just wrecked your next day.
Buy coffee
Don’t be cheap. Even if it costs you 40 minutes at some overpriced place, do it. They will forget your instructions to caffeinate beforehand. They will need it. After day one, you can scale back.
Be in charge.
This is your shoot. If you’re unclear or hesitant, the DP will fill that vacuum—or worse, disengage. You don’t need to be authoritarian, but you do need to be decisive.
Be clear about what you want. Be concise. (I struggle with this. I tend to ramble and then say, “you know what I mean,” which is never a great sign.)
You are responsible for the story—and for the people making it.
Be cool.
This is the job. You’re entering people’s lives, often on difficult days. Trust and empathy matter more.
This is hard to describe, but I’m going to try. Shooting docs means you are taking on someone’s story in a way that is unlike news or social media or any other form of communication. The main thing is trust and empathy. Together you can set people at ease by being respectful of people’s personal and social space. Ease into spaces. Take the time to arrive without the camera to be social with people. Have them show you around, if possible. And then bring in the camera.
Learn TO Dance
When things are unfolding in real time the DP is really dancing with the subject along with you. And, honestly, it’s this dance that counts. The movement they capture is paramount – its what ends up in the film. But, since you’re directing and sometimes interacting directly with the subject, you are dancing, too – either right next to the DP or hidden away somewhere so you don’t get in the shot. Confusing? Yes, but this kind of rhythmic gymnastics is crucial and, just like in romance, the body language and even the sensory experience of being in proximity to each other will inform your relationship. If the dancing is awkward. If there is something strange going on with your chemistry, it can mess with your relationship and ultimately, your footage. I don’t like to use a Teradek monitor when I work, unless I really need to know what I’m getting because its either that crucial or I don’t trust the DP. It can be a crutch and clumsy in tight spaces or in true verité moments. And, I forgot the sound recordist. They are dancing, too. So it's actually 4 people dancing at the same time.
DON'T
Over-direcT
You’ve set the table. Now get out of the way.
The fastest way to kill a real moment is to start shaping it while it’s happening—resetting, interrupting, feeding lines. You usually get one honest pass at a scene. Everything after that starts to feel like a reenactment.
I’ve watched great moments die because someone couldn’t resist “improving” them.
Turn it into a “set.”
Don’t say “rolling.” Don’t say “quiet on set.” Don’t say “standby.”
You’re not making a commercial. You’re in someone’s home, their workplace, their worst day. The second it feels like a production, people change. They perform. And you lose the thing you came for.
Ignore sound.
Do this once and you’ll regret it forever.
Sound is not secondary. It’s not fixable later. And your DP should be in constant awareness of where sound is and what they need.
In vérité, the sound recordist is not support—they’re a co-author.
Leave your DP drifting.
Yes, they want space. Yes, they don’t want you hovering.
But leave them alone too long without direction and one of two things happens:they start wandering… or they start scrolling.
Neither helps your film. Keep a loose tether. Enough freedom to discover, enough structure to stay focused.
Push past the breaking point.
Everyone wants to get more. Especially if you’re paying for the day.
But there’s a limit—to your crew, and to your subject.
You can feel it when people are done. The energy drops, the answers flatten, the camera gets heavier. That last hour you forced? You probably won’t use it.
Know when to stop. It’s a skill.
I’ve probably pissed off a number of DP's with thiS
That’s fine.
The truth is, I like working with them. I respect what they do. And when it clicks—when you’re aligned on story, tone, and instinct—it’s hard to beat.
You stop talking so much. You start seeing the same things.
You don’t need to explain why a moment matters—you both just feel it happening.
And when that happens, you come back with more than just footage.
You come back with something you can actually build a film from.
For more tips about working with DP's, editors and how to fix your documentary story, get in touch by visiting docstory911.com
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